Blue Christmas
by Headbanger Rockstar
Summary: One shot. Sad fic. It's not always the most wonderful time of the year. Tony doesn't like Christmas-and here's a possible reason why. Mentions of a Kate/Tony pairing, Gibbs-Tony father-son themes. Spoilers for Episode 10.10 You Better Watch Out, Twilight, SWAK. Rated T.


**Author's Note:** Not to sound cliché, but this is dedicated to the one I love. Miss you babe. For some of us, Christmas and the other holidays are NOT the most wonderful time of the year. This story reflects that.  
**Spoilers**: _10.10 You Better Watch Out, End of Season 2—SWAK & Twilight.  
_**WARNING: SAD FIC**

_Thanks to my wonderful beta, Gotgoats who has helped me both with this story, and with the emotions that the boys are experiencing in this story. You're a true friend—a real blessing. Thanks!_

_**Author's Note: **__This story mentions a Kate-Tony relationship—not my usual style, but I can dig it. Can you?_

**Blue Christmas  
**By Headbanger_Rockstar

Tony unlocked the door to his apartment and dropped his keys on the table. He closed the door behind him, snapped the lock closed and dumped his backpack on the couch. He'd left a lamp on for himself that morning, so the apartment, with its plain white walls and wooden floors was bathed in soft light on this dark night. Walking over to the fridge, Tony grabbed a Dominion and shut the fridge back. The supermarket would be closed all day tomorrow, as would the pizza parlor, and Tony wondered fleetingly what the hell he was going to eat. Maybe, with some luck, he could find a Chinese restaurant that would do a takeout order for the holiday.

Tony hated Christmas. He hated the songs, the lights, the happy holly jolly people. He didn't like the smell of pine or cinnamon, and he refused to even purchase any wrapping paper. His apartment was not decorated, there was no tree. Christmas cards he'd received were standing on the bar—the only indication in the apartment that there was a holiday approaching. Tony took a healthy swig of beer, swallowed hard around the growing lump in his throat, and stepped over to the smallish crystal bowl on the shelf. Inside the bowl, a lone fish swam around, happy to be in the water, to have a tree to admire, to have a castle to play in. Tony picked up the small tube of fish food and pinched some out.

"I know I only fed you yesterday," he said. "But I think you need a little extra Christmas treat, yes I do. After all…your momma sure did like Christmas…" Tony's voice broke off in a whisper.

The team was watching a Christmas movie in MTAC as was becoming their annual tradition (barring any international security emergencies). Tony had begged off, saying he was tired, saying he had a headache, saying he had some last minute shopping to do—saying whatever was necessary to get the hell out of the building and away from all those prying eyes of people who were so well meaning, so nice, so _concerned_, so absolutely completely forgetful about why it was Tony hated Christmas.

You see…Tony didn't always hate Christmas. There was a time when he loved nothing better than to decorate the whole house from top to bottom. There was a time when he loved to listen to carolers and sing his own renditions of Christmas tunes. There was a time when he loved to eat himself sick, drink himself silly (literally), and enjoy all the things in the holiday that make it merry and bright. There was a time when Tony'd had someone to spend the holiday with. There was a time—albeit a short time—that Tony wasn't alone on Christmas.

Tony smiled sadly as Kate the Goldfish munched happily on her food. Really, she was such an agreeable little pet—and so easy! She didn't need to be walked in the cold, didn't make a mess in the floor, just was always happy to see him—and didn't get animal fur all over his designer suits. The FIRST Kate was a gift to him…oddly enough, from Kate before she'd died. And even MORE oddly—she'd been a Christmas gift.

"_You need something to teach you responsibility Tony," she'd snarked good naturedly. "Need you to learn to take care of something easy before we try anything too difficult."_

And Tony had kissed her, and ran a hand over her belly—her small belly that was housing the largest miracle Tony had ever experienced. The moment was perfect. The holiday was perfect. Their relationship—rule number twelve be damned—was perfect. Everything was perfect until…

Tony would never truly get the sound of the gunshot out of his head. Would never get the smell of blood and brain matter out of his nose. She was his rock, his best cheerleader, the one who kept him humble, kept him sane, kept him out of trouble (or got him into it on occasion)…his best friend, his partner, his coworker, the woman he loved—he loved her more than his own life. And she was gone. And she took Tony's love of Christmas with her. It was too hard to do it all alone—and what was the point? To be reminded that she wouldn't be there to tell him that the bow was crooked or that the lights blink too fast or slow? She wouldn't be here to cook with him, to dance with him in his kitchen—his state of the art kitchen that she'd helped him design. The kitchen that he couldn't stand the thought of cooking in anymore, because he couldn't eat the food without throwing it back up.

He glanced around the apartment at the white walls, remembering a time when colored paints and tasteful art had graced their surfaces. She'd accused him of being "such a bachelor" to which he had not argued. After Kate died…he'd called up Gibbs and asked him to come help him paint his apartment. Gibbs had raised an eyebrow, but brought a six pack of beer with him when he'd come wearing his old clothes, ready to help. And they'd painted the whole place white. Tony's boss and friend offered to help him re-hang all of the art, but Tony had politely declined, saying he'd take care of the art. And he did. He took it to a local store that sold items to people on lower income budgets so they could have some tasteful art in their own houses. Tony didn't want it. Kate had selected it, had helped him hang it on his chocolate and sage colored walls. Tony told himself that he'd leave the walls plain for a while, white with no art, and would repaint them and get new stuff for the walls soon. Once the hurt died down some. Once things got easier.

Eight years later…things weren't easier yet. Tony smiled down at Kate the Goldfish. She was the third successor to Kate-1's legacy. He took another sip of beer and wondered if things would ever be easier. He was beginning to think probably not.

He loosened his tie and turned around to flop down on his couch, when his cell phone rang. The team was on call for Christmas this year, and while Tony didn't wish any ill will toward any family in the world, he secretly desired a case to take his mind off of his lonesomeness. Some small drama, a missing person that could be found alive perhaps—something—anything to distract him, would be very welcomed. Tony glanced at the caller ID. Gibbs. Maybe…just maybe…

"Hi Boss," Tony answered, after he flipped the phone open.

_"Buzz me in,"_ Gibbs said._ "Forgot my key and it's cold out here."_

"Um…Boss?" Tony wasn't sure what to make of this. What was Gibbs doing here? "What are you doing here?"

_"Just let me in! I can explain once I'm inside."_

Tony sighed and hit the button, unlocking the front door to his building, allowing Gibbs access inside. He knew he only had a couple of minutes to get himself together before his boss would be there, scrutinizing his every move, watching his every reaction—because that's what he did. Tony hung up his coat and put his backpack by the door. He cleared his throat and glanced at his reflection in the window to make sure he looked halfway presentable. He took a sip of beer and tried to look casual, just as the knock on the door sounded. Tony waited just a moment before he unlocked it and let him in, took a deep breath, tried to reign in the emotions that he was sure were all over his face.

"Hi Boss!" Tony plastered a smile on his face. It nearly faltered when he saw the shuttered look on Gibbs' face. "Come in!"

"You don't have to play the cheerful Christmas Elf with me DiNozzo," Gibbs said softly as Tony shut the door behind him.

Tony noticed that Gibbs brought his own six pack of beer with him. "Oh c'mon Boss! What are you talking about? I'm fine!"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow and unscrewed the cap on his first bottle. "If you're so fine," he said gently, "then how come you're not celebrating the holiday?"

Tony nearly choked on the smug sip of beer he'd just taken. His boss was dealing a low blow, it seemed. "I um…been a busy couple of weeks Boss," he stumbled out. "You know uh…lots of um…lots of cases, lots of paperwork. Haven't had a lot of time off to decorate."

"We had two weekends in December off," Gibbs said reasonably, but the gentle tone in his voice slightly unnerving. "How many weekends do you need to put up a Christmas tree?"

Tony hesitated, and Gibbs turned away, strolling through the living room, stopping near the fish. "Hello Kate," he said, as pleasantly as if he were speaking to the former member of Gibbs' team. "You're looking lovely my dear."

Tony took another sip of beer, a bit desperately now, and swallowed hard. "So uh…what brings you here…tonight…Boss?"

Gibbs turned around and stared evenly at Tony. "Something's bothering you," he said, not guessing, not stating it as an opinion. Gibbs was stating a fact. "And I wanna know what it is."

Tony's eyes widened slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about," he squeaked.

Gibbs stepped closer to Tony, until they were nearly nose to nose. "Bullshit," he said softly. Then he stepped back and took a seat on the couch. Sipping his beer, he eyed Tony again. "Talk," he said. "You missed 'It's A Wonderful Life,'—that's not like you. What's going on?"

And that was the big question, wasn't it? What really was the root of all the trouble here? Tony thought he knew the answer…but he was fairly certain that his father might not live to see Christmas if he told Gibbs… ah what the hell? "Something…something my father said…while he was here…I know it's dumb," he shrugged sadly, suddenly interested in the label on the beer.

Gibbs patted the cushion on the couch beside him. "Come sit," he said. "And tell me what happened."

It was amazing to Tony, the difference in Gibbs and his father. His father had this big personality—could charm the skin off of a snake! He was approachable and friendly and nice and…and completely false. It was all a façade. But then there was Gibbs. He came across as this hard, cold, unapproachable bastard…which was also false. Gibbs was one of the most approachable people Tony'd ever met. He was open and welcoming—especially to those people he was close to. People like Tony. The only condition he gave was that it was a two way street. If they expected Gibbs to trust them, they had to be willing to trust him too, and that meant talking it out—even when it was uncomfortable.

Tony took a long sip of beer and let out a sigh. "He…I…It wasn't supposed to go down like it did…he wasn't supposed to stay here…" he said softly.

"Whose idea was it?"

"His. Abby's. Ziva's. I'm not sure who started it," Tony admitted. "All I know is one minute I was in shock because my father was randomly back in town, and the next minute I was going into heart failure because he was staying in my apartment."

"So what happened?" Gibbs said.

"It was the first night…when we first got here…he was snooping around peeping in on everything…and he said…he…he laughed at it. At my home. This is my castle Gibbs! It's nothing fancy, nothing ritzy or glamorous, but it's mine—and I love it. It's quirky and old and sure it's got it's problems, but what house doesn't?"

"What'd he say Tony?"

"And maybe if I wasn't by myself I'd live somewhere else, but this place is really kinda nice and it has a view of the park, and I can play my piano next to the window and look outside and…"

"What'd he say Tony?" Gibbs asked again, his voice still patient, much to Tony's surprise.

Tony took another long sip of beer, finishing off the bottle. He pouted and made a face at it. Gibbs reached into his own six-pack and handed Tony another beer. "He laughed at my place. Laughed at my bed. Asked me how I figured I could ever…you know," he shrugged, "with a girl in that little bed."

"Didn't he…"

"OH yeah," Tony took a sip of beer. "Oh yeah he totally did that. But it wasn't just the comment he made about my bed Boss. Wasn't just that he laughed at it. He said something else…something worse…something wrong."

"What'd he say Tony? Talk to me son," Gibbs pressed.

"Said I'm living a closed off life. That I don't know what I'm missing out on—that I'm missing out on a wife, kids, picket fence—that I don't know what all that's like."

Gibbs set his beer down on the coffee table and ran a hand over his forehead. Then he reached out and squeezed Tony's shoulder gently, but firmly. "Now it makes a lot more sense," Gibbs said.

That was something Tony really loved about Gibbs. Gibbs got it. He understood what this felt like. Understood this pain. Understood the heartache that, even years after their deaths, hasn't gone away. Gibbs could relate to the feelings Tony was experiencing. The sensation of your heart being ripped out of your chest…and questioning why and how it still beats. Wondering why you bother getting out of bed some days…wondering what's the point. It's not just that she was dead. Kate died years ago. So did Shannon. So did both of their babies. It wasn't just that they died. It was that when they died, they each took a piece of their partners with them. A piece of Tony died with Kate—just as a piece of Gibbs had passed with Shannon. It was the death of dreams, of hopes, of tomorrows. It was being left feeling like a gentle breeze would blow you over—being left behind to make hard decisions that you'd made with someone in the past, now finding yourself having to do it all alone.

Tony sniffled, horrified at the sudden moisture pooling in his eyes. Dear God after all of this was he going to cry too? He sniffled again and ran his hand lightly over the tip of his nose. Great. Perfect. Ah well. Gibbs had asked for this. "I do get it," Tony said, trying hard not to sound like a petulant child. "I do know what I'm missing. I get it. Loud and clear. Kate was…she was everything Boss…and she…we…I never told you…weren't sure how to tell anyone…" Tony sighed and ran a hand over his face. "It wasn't just Kate that died that day."

It only took Gibbs a moment to catch on, and Tony sighed when he heard Gibbs' sharp intake of breath. "We never told anyone," he said. "Because we weren't married yet. We were going to run off and get married that summer though…but she…I…it um…it didn't work out…did it Boss?" Tony let out a shaky laugh that almost sounded more like a sob and took a sloppy sip of beer. "My kid…my kid would be almost eight years old now," he said softly. "She was only a few weeks along. We had just found out…right after I had the plague we found out…right before I came back to work…"

"Ah Tony," Gibbs said mournfully. "I wished you'd have told me."

"Why?" Tony asked, his question sitting heavily in the otherwise quiet room. "Why dwell on it? No one else even knew about it—no one on the team, and certainly not her family. Ducky did the autopsy, so I'm sure he knows…but he knew Kate well enough to know that she would desire discretion on that. Her family…wouldn't have been ok with us not being married first. Cart before the horse and all that," Tony said. He was rambling now, and he knew it, but he didn't know how to stop it.

"Hey," Gibbs said, swatting him lightly over the back of the head—much lighter than normal. "This isn't your fault," Gibbs said firmly. "It was no secret how the two of your felt about each other. Babies can sometimes be inevitable, and I think that is true here. What I don't understand is why you never mentioned it to me. I get it Tony. You know I get it. Why carry that by yourself?"

"Because I don't want to remind you of what all you've lost, Boss," Tony said tiredly. "I don't want to remind myself, but I surely wouldn't wanna push it off on anyone else if they're coping with their own loss. I didn't wanna make it harder for you."

Gibbs reached up and palmed Tony's cheek and pointed a finger right in his face. "Listen to me Tony. And understand something right now. This pain? It never goes away. The sting of it lessens as time passes, but it never goes away. It always hurts. But I can tell you something I've learned—and I've had over twenty years of experience with this pain," Gibbs said. "And that is that no matter how badly it hurts—it hurts worse when you try to do it by yourself. I spent years not talking about it, not telling anybody about it, denying they ever even existed. And all it gave me was a rock in my gut and left me feeling worse than I already did. I don't want that for you Tony. It's been eight years. Kate wouldn't want you to suffer alone like this. She would want you to get out and find friends, and find a new girlfriend and figure out how to have those tomorrows that you think died with Kate. She wouldn't want you to be lonely. Shannon wouldn't want me to be lonely either. And the babies…Tony I'm so sorry you know that hurt. I'm sorrier that you've been doing it alone for all these years."

Tony was not even trying to stop the tears on his cheeks now. Gibbs' words were ringing true. God he missed Kate. Missed her smell, her laugh, her snarky comments, the way she'd go undercover with him and do everything in her ability to bait him mercilessly until they were finished…but Gibbs was right—Tony knew that Kate would call him an idiot for the way he'd been acting. But that left him with another question.

"How do you do it Boss? How do you let it go and move on?"

"You never truly let it go, Tony," Gibbs said patiently.

"I can't be with other women," Tony said. "Believe me I've tried. The last woman I was really with was—"

"Don't even say her name Tony," Gibbs said, taking a sip of his own beer. "And I won't point out the similarities between her and Kate."

"There weren't a lot of similarities besides their hair," Tony protested, but he knew it wasn't true. Kate, like Jeanne, took family and commitments very seriously. There was an order that both of them believed things needed to be done in. The list went on and on…they were more alike than Tony ever cared to admit to. "So what?" he wanted to know instead.

"So you saw what happened to me when I tried replacing my Shannon with another redhead," Gibbs said. "Ended in disaster."

"Three times," Tony said helpfully, ducking the headslap. A moment later he was somber again. "My dad decorated the apartment," he said softly. "Put up a tree and little christmasy, trinket stuff…made it all look really nice."

Gibbs glanced around. "Are we in the wrong apartment?"

"Ha ha Boss," Tony said dryly. "I took it all down."

"Why?"

"Because…it's the same reasons I don't paint my walls. It's…it's a reminder…"

"No need to wallow in it Tony. Their memory will stay alive without you making yourself miserable in it. Sometimes it just helps to talk some."

"I am feeling a bit better."

"That's good," Gibbs said. He opened another beer. "Now go pack a bag."

"A bag? Why?"

"Because it's Christmas and there's no reason to spend it alone."

"Boss—" Tony started to protest.

"Bag. Pack. Go." Gibbs pointed in the direction of the bedroom. He recalled a day when the room had been home to a large king sized bed, when trendy artwork adorned the walls, when the kitchen actually had dirty dishes in it. It made Gibbs sad to think that Tony was going through this same kind of pain he knew. He wouldn't wish it on someone he hated, let alone someone he cared about as much as he did Tony. He knew from experience that bottling that pain up wouldn't make it better—would actually make it worse. So he saw this as an opportunity for Gibbs to teach him how to make it better—to show him that you can survive, you can _live, _ despite your loss—or perhaps in spite of it.

Tony reappeared with a bag just as Gibbs finished his beer. "Get Kate," he said, pointing at the fishbowl on the shelf.

"Why?"

"Because it's Christmas and there's no reason to spend it alone," Gibbs told Tony patiently, quoting himself from earlier.

Tony smirked and nodded, heading for the fishbowl. He pocketed the bottle of food and picked up the bowl. "C'mon Kate. Let's go have Christmas at Gibbs' house."

Gibbs smiled. "This helps me too ya know," he said.

Tony looked at him. "I get that," he said quietly, humbled at Gibbs' admission.

"Let's go DiNozzo," Gibbs said, leading the way out of the apartment. "And tell ya what?"

"What's that Gibbs?"

"Day after Christmas we're going shopping."

"Shopping? For what?" Tony had no idea what the hell Gibbs was going on about.

Gibbs stopped on the steps and turned around, staring at his agent and his friend, whom he cared for like a son. "Paint," he said pointedly.

Then he turned, and walked down the stairs.

**The End**


End file.
